Myth Beyond Heaven

Yun Lintian stared at the chessboard between them. He had never been particularly skilled at the game—his life had been one of cultivation and battle, not leisurely strategy. But the challenge in Ping Heng’s eyes was unmistakable.

If you want my power, prove you can wield it.

“I’ll play,” Yun Lintian said.

He reached for a black pawn—and the moment his fingers touched the piece, the world shifted.

A crushing weight pressed down on his shoulders. His breath caught in his throat as his vision blurred, then sharpened with terrifying clarity. The chessboard was no longer just a board—it was the world.

Every piece represented a force of existence. The pawns were mortal lives, flickering like candles in the wind. The knights were warriors, bound by honor and blood. The bishops were faith and knowledge, the rooks the unyielding foundations of reality. The queen—limitless potential. The king—the fragile core of it all.

And across from him, Ping Heng sat like an immovable mountain, his presence steady as the heavens themselves.

“You feel it now, don’t you?” Ping Heng said calmly. “This is no ordinary game. Every move you make will shape the balance of all things.”

Yun Lintian exhaled slowly, sweat beading on his brow. The pressure was unbearable—like holding up the sky with his bare hands. But he refused to buckle.

He moved the pawn forward.

Clink.

The moment the piece settled, the floating islands around them trembled. A distant realm somewhere in the cosmos shifted, its fate altered by the simple motion of a pawn.

Ping Heng smiled and countered effortlessly, moving a white knight.

Clink.

A crushing force slammed into Yun Lintian’s chest. He gritted his teeth as visions flashed before his eyes—wars breaking out, alliances crumbling, all because of that single move.

Hei Xuan, watching from the side, whistled lowly. “Damn. You weren’t kidding about this being serious.”

Ping Heng ignored him, his gaze locked onto Yun Lintian. “Chess is more than strategy. It is philosophy given form. To move a piece is to make a choice—and every choice has consequences.”

Yun Lintian didn’t respond. His mind raced, analyzing the board. He was already at a disadvantage—his opening move had been too straightforward, too easily countered.

He needed to adapt.

He moved a bishop.

Clink.

The world trembled again, but this time, the reaction was different—subtler, like a ripple in a pond rather than a quaking earthquake.

Ping Heng’s eyebrow rose slightly. “Interesting.”

He countered, but not as swiftly as before.

Yun Lintian’s lips curled. He didn’t expect that.

The game intensified.

At first, Yun Lintian’s moves were clumsy, his inexperience obvious. Ping Heng dismantled his strategies with ease, each counter sending waves of pressure crashing into him. But slowly, something changed.

Yun Lintian learned.

He watched Ping Heng’s patterns, studied the flow of the game, and began to anticipate. His next move was unorthodox—a reckless advance that seemed foolish at first glance.

Ping Heng paused.

Then, for the first time, he hesitated before countering.

Hei Xuan’s eyes widened. “Wait, did you just—?”

Yun Lintian didn’t let up. He pressed forward, sacrificing pieces in ways that made no sense—until suddenly, they did.

A trap.

Ping Heng’s king was cornered before he even realized it.

The God of Balance stared at the board, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he chuckled.

“Well played.”

He moved his king aside—not surrendering yet, but acknowledging the shift in momentum.

Yun Lintian’s breathing was heavy, his robes drenched in sweat. The weight of the world still pressed down on him, but now, it felt different.

He was starting to understand.

This wasn’t just a game of chess.

It was a battle of wills.

And Yun Lintian had never been one to lose.

He moved his queen.

Clink.

The world held its breath.

Ping Heng studied the board, then looked up at Yun Lintian with something akin to respect.

“You are better than I thought,” he said calmly. “But this isn’t the win you think.”

Ping Heng’s fingers hovered over his white bishop.

Clink.

The moment the piece moved, the world screamed.

Yun Lintian’s vision went white. His bones creaked under an invisible weight, his meridians burning as if filled with molten steel. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, dripping onto the chessboard—where each drop sizzled like acid against the wood.

“Big Brother Yun!” Linlin and Qingqing cried out in unison, their tiny forms trembling.

Yun Lintian didn’t acknowledge them. His entire being was focused on the board—on the catastrophe Ping Heng had just unleashed with a single move.

The floating islands above them shattered, their fragments freezing mid-air. The mirrored realms below twisted into grotesque shapes, reality itself warping under the God of Balance’s will.

Hei Xuan’s smirk vanished. “Old man… you’re not holding back at all.”

Ping Heng’s gaze never left Yun Lintian. “Why would I?”

Yun Lintian’s hands shook as he studied the board.

Every path led to ruin.

Ping Heng had turned the tide completely. What had seemed like Yun Lintian’s advantage moments ago was now a death trap—each of his pieces isolated, his king exposed. The pressure was unbearable, like the entire cosmos had decided to crush him beneath its heel.

Clink.

Yun Lintian moved a rook, sacrificing it to buy time.

Ping Heng countered instantly.

Clink.

A spike of pain lanced through Yun Lintian’s skull. Visions flooded his mind—entire civilizations crumbling, stars going dark, timelines unraveling—all because of that one move.

“Chess is balance,” Ping Heng said softly. “And balance is merciless.”

Yun Lintian coughed, more blood staining his lips. His body felt like it was breaking apart, but his eyes burned with defiance.

Think.

He forced his trembling fingers forward, grasping a black knight.

Clink.

The piece landed with a sound like a thunderclap.

For the first time, Ping Heng’s brow furrowed slightly.

Hei Xuan sucked in a sharp breath. “That move… you madman.”

Yun Lintian had done the unthinkable—he’d abandoned his king. Instead of defending, he’d launched an all-out assault, leaving his most vital piece undefended.

Ping Heng studied the board, then Yun Lintian. “You would gamble everything on a single strike?”

Yun Lintian wiped blood from his mouth. “You said it yourself. Balance is merciless.” He met Ping Heng’s gaze. “So am I.”

The air between them crackled.

Ping Heng moved.

Clink.

Yun Lintian’s vision went black.

For one terrifying moment, he ceased to exist—his consciousness scattered across the void, his very soul unraveling….